Doing the Right Thing
by Elianna22
Summary: Cody didn't even have to say anything for Zack to know what he was thinking: Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me?


**A/N: Hello again, dear readers. The draft version of this has been on my hard drive for ages, ever since I finished **_**Repercussions: Part 2**_**, and I meant to edit and post it a while ago. I know some of you were waiting to read it, so late is better than never, I hope.**

**Disclaimer: Disney owns the Suite Life characters. I just have fun writing about them. Activision owns ****Soap MacTavish and Task Force 141.**

**Thanks as always to beta-reader Waldojeffers.**

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**Doing the Right Thing

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_To live a life worth looking up to _  
_Holding on to what matters most_  
_Nobody said it was gonna be easy_  
_But I know I will never be alone_

_Mandisa, "The Right Thing"_

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"Soap called on Thursday and said there's a spot for me on Task Force 141 anytime I want. I told him I'd need some time to think about it. But now I know I'm ready to go back."

Up until the words were out of his mouth, Zack had believed he was on the fence about joining Task Force 141, the most sophisticated counter-terrorist unit in the world. But as soon as he'd spoken them into the stillness of the bathroom where he and Cody had been sitting for hours while he related a sequence of events that felt like it had happened to someone else, he knew that he could. He was a survivor, one of the lucky ones—not a washed-up wreck like the homeless vet he and Cody had seen in Boston a few days ago, one rich brother away from living in a cardboard box, under a bridge. He could soldier on, as it were.

Cody stared at him with unbridled horror. The last time Zack had seen that look was on Farshad Nazarov's face after he learned his father had been kidnapped, thanks to Zack and his inconvenient need to get home. Cody didn't even have to say anything for Zack to know what he was thinking:_ Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me?_

_No, I don't hate you_, he answered silently._ But if you weren't my brother I probably would._

"No, you can't join the task force," Cody insisted, tears already forming in his eyes. "You just can't."

"You know me," Zack said lightly. "I'll come home one way or another."

Cody grabbed his arm, fingers digging straight into the tattooed names. Zack clenched his teeth against the currents of pain shooting up his arm. It would have been easy to pull his arm away, but he left it in Cody's grip. "This isn't about you," he said. "Despite what I said earlier, not every decision I make revolves around you, little brother."

Stalling, he surveyed the bathroom of the Imperial Suite, crown jewel of the L.A. Tipton, an opulent space littered with gold-plated accessories, shag carpets, obscenely expensive bars of soap. Luxuries, trinkets, that a struggling yak herder like Abdul Nazarov would never see except in movies. If he could even afford to watch a movie.

"This is my profession," he said. "It's what I've chosen to do." He swallowed, suppressing a burst of anger in his gut. "Seriously, Cody, you should be grateful people are willing to do the dirty work for you."

"Is this about the _Forbes_ profile?" Cody asked.

"What?" Zack kept his expression blank. The patronizing tone of the _Forbes_ magazine reporter grated his memory. "We're publishing a profile of your brother as the New Face of Corporate America," the reporter had simpered when he finally caught Zack on the phone. "You must be so proud of Cody for his vast achievements as an innovation leader at Tipton Martin Industries and a philanthropist and humanitarian through his world peace foundation. Would you like to comment on how he's inspired you?" It had taken all of Zack's self-restraint not to lose his temper, not to retort, "What achievements? My brother invented a stupid spice rack and hooked up with a zillionaire's daughter. That's it. That's all he's done. The rest is nepotism and the twenty-four-carat golden horseshoe shoved up his ass. He hasn't saved lives, he hasn't sacrificed anything, he doesn't know how it feels to stare down the barrel of a gun, to choose someone else's life over his own."

"Are you mad I'm getting all this attention?" Cody pressed. "I don't deserve it. All I do is throw money at problems. You've saved lives. You're the real hero."

Zack shrugged. "You're just trying to do the right thing," he said evenly. "Same as me." Cody had basically admitted he was a pampered pacifist, a spotlight-hogging soapbox crusader, and Zack could live with that. Now was not the time to wage an ideological battle over which one of them deserved to be called a hero.

Cody apparently thought differently. "How is getting yourself killed doing the right thing?" he screamed, shoving Zack against the bathtub with surprising force. "How is ruining my life doing the right thing?"

Zack shifted out of Cody's reach, but put his hands on his knees, ready to react if Cody lunged at him with the whiskey bottle yelling, "I'll kill you myself."

"So the next time a bomb is about to go off or an innocent civilian gets kidnapped, I should just sit back and let it happen? " he demanded. "Is that what you want?" _Why can't you see me as selfless, the way the rest of world sees you? Only instead of giving money, I'm giving my life. I've grown up, developed principles and values—against all the odds, it seems. Is that so hard to believe? _

"No, of course not," Cody shot back. "I get that you want to help people, you know I do. It's not like I think you're just playing Rambo. And I'm really proud of you, Zack, for everything you've done. But..." he trailed off. "But why does the next problem have to be _your_ responsibility? Zack, you've done your part. You're my brother, my twin brother, and that means I need you in my life." His voice broke and he paused, blinking rapidly. "And I know you need me, too."

The despair in Cody's voice knotted Zack's stomach. _I am not the evil twin_, he wanted to shout. _Stop making me feel like I am_. He took a deep breath, trying stay to calm. "What I need," he said, gritting his teeth, "is to get on with my life."

_Away from Boston_. _Away from_—it pained him to think it—_away from you and your disgustingly large shadow_.

Cody reeled visibly. Had he tapped into that last thought? "You can be Head of Security at TMI," he pleaded. "We'll create a Foundation scholarship in Tommy's name. Abdul can have the biggest, best Quick-E Mart in Boston. You can even keep the Bondmobile."

Any of these olive branches might have tempted Zack a year ago, or even three months ago. Any one of them. But all he could see now were the strings attached if he gave in. His identity disappearing. _You can't buy me. I don't have a price anymore._

Nonetheless, he could give Cody one more chance.

"Can you give me a reason to stay that _doesn't_ involve you?" he asked, looking Cody straight in the eyes.

Cody's answer startled him. "Sure, I can do that," he said immediately. "Just give me a few days, OK?"

So Cody did have something up his custom-tailored sleeve. But what, exactly? A better job offer? A house in Miami? Zack fiddled with a towel as he waited for Cody to continue. Something had been off throughout this weekend in L.A., more than the usual discord between them lately, but he hadn't been able to put a finger on it.

Cody flattened his hand on the bathtub rim, sucking in shaky breaths. After a few moments, he asked, "So you're not—you're not mad at me?"

Zack leaned against the bathtub. Was he mad? He'd always known something had happened between Bailey and Cody at Seven Seas High—he wasn't blind—but Bailey had come back to him and neither of them had her now, so the point was moot. As for everything else he had survived? Including being permanently stuck in Cody's shadow, the invisible hero who never measured up, no matter what he did?

_Well, shit happens. You just get on with it. That's what it's all about._

"No," he said at last. "Not really." Time for a joke to ease the tension. Dr. Giffin at the VA hospital had said his sense of humour was his most effective coping mechanism. He hooked his arm around Cody and forced a chuckle. "Just that I had to sleep in a cave while you got to stay here and live the suite life."

He expected Cody to laugh, and for a moment it looked like he would, but then Cody's face crumpled and he collapsed into sobs, burying his face in his hands.

"It's OK," Zack said automatically, squeezing Cody's bony shoulder. "Cheer up, bro," he nearly added. "It's not like you're the one who was tortured."

He couldn't say it, though—not out loud—because as soon as the thought had formed in his mind, he knew it wasn't true.

The past year had been an ordeal. Such an avalanche of shit that in spite of intensive therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder, in his weakest moments of self-pity it still blew his mind how much shit had been dumped on him. Yet at no point had some asshole showed up and told him Cody was dead. Not just dead but never to be seen again. No battered body, no mangled remains, no sense of closure. Just an empty casket draped with a flag, for the sake of formality.

Losing a twin did not count as shit happening. It was the most awful thing that could happen, and it had happened to Cody. Underneath the solace of their twin telepathy, hadn't Cody feared the worst ever since the army had reported him killed in action? Yes, of course he had.

And didn't that fear outweigh months of being beaten and humiliated as a prisoner of war, being stalked by death when he was lost in the mountains, that devastated look in little Farshad's eyes—the one moment in Zack's life when he had well and truly wished he were dead, wished that Farshad had shot him when he had the chance and put him out of everyone's misery?

Was it even a question?

None of it had hurt as badly as losing Cody would—a pain that Zack not could not conjure up, even to punish himself.

He squeezed Cody's shoulder again. He was hardwired to protect Cody, his DNA dictated it, and for a whole year he had completely failed—so what could he do but take it all back?

"It's OK, buddy," he heard himself saying gruffly. "I won't call Soap yet."

Cody slumped against him and clutched him tighter. The same way Zack had clung to Cody when he appeared in his prison cell on Christmas morning, terrified his little brother would vanish if he let go. Terrified he would be alone again.

He wrapped his other arm around the tops of Cody's shoulders and rubbed his back as though he were a little kid. "Cody, stop it," he said, feeling ten years older than Cody instead of ten minutes. "It's OK," he repeated softly.

Guilt kept hammering at him. _No, it's not OK. __It sucks that we're on different sides. It sucks that we don't understand each other anymore. I shouldn't have told you any of this. You're drunk and burnt-out and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything you had to go through. I'm sorry for being so selfish._

Cody was still crying, broken hollow sobs that he couldn't control. Worry began to crowd out the guilt. Zack had found the bottle of Xanax in Cody's briefcase a few weeks ago during a routine security check and dismissed it as a tool of the executive trade. Now he wasn't so sure. Had he literally given his little brother a nervous breakdown?

"Do you want me to get your Xanax from your room?" he asked.

At this, Cody sat up straight, like he'd been pulled by an invisible cord. "No, I'm fine," he said between hiccups.

Anyone could see he wasn't fine, though. If TMI were a publicly traded company and the shareholders could see their future CEO dripping tears and snot with a big bruise on his cheek, the stock price would plummet. Zack looked around for a box of tissues, but Cody was already wiping his eyes with his pocket hanky.

"God, I'm such a mess," he said, after blowing his nose in the soggy hanky.

Zack patted his shoulder. "Well, London probably wouldn't be impressed," he said wryly. Another stab at humour.

Cody shut his eyes then, and when he opened them he pointed to the door. "I have to make a call," he said bluntly.

"Fine." Zack recognized his cue to leave. The moment was over. A switch had been flipped and Cody had reverted to his business persona, buffered by the demands of Fortune 500 life, and Zack was being sent back to his tree stump to jam out on a frying pan drum.

_Whatever_, he thought wearily. _Maybe some things never change_. He kept his hand on Cody's shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet, and on his way to the door, he took the almost empty whiskey bottle, his last protective gesture of this very long night.

In his bedroom, he threw the bottle into the wastebasket and flopped onto the king-sized bed, deflated from exhaustion. Sunlight hazed through the curtains, well past the first rays of morning. Lying on his back, he held his arm above his face, reading and rereading the tattooed names of the twelve people who had been killed in action on July 3, 2018. His fallen brothers. The people he had avoided talking about all night—except for Tommy.

_Tommy 'Tin Man' Delgado / 1989–2018_

Pain wrenched his stomach like a fresh bullet wound. He even gasped from the suddenness of it, feeling tears sting his eyes as he curled into a ball.

Would he ever stop missing Tommy? Would he ever stop wondering if he'd done enough to prove to Tommy and the others that he deserved to survive the helicopter crash that had ended their lives but not his?

If he didn't go back to the military, what else could he do to stop the terrible survivor's guilt from consuming him?

Zack's throat burned and tightened, but he was too tired to cry. He couldn't let himself fall apart, and besides, falling apart was Cody's thing, not his.

Rolling over, he pushed his face into the pillows and waited for the day to end.

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**A/N: Chapter 26 "Doing the Right Thing" was one of the most emotional chapters of R2. While writing it from Cody's POV, I worked out Zack's thoughts for his half of the dialogue and realized they would be totally different from Cody's. The pacifist vs. soldier conflict in R2 was very interesting to explore, and of course the SLOD episode "Goin' Bananas" has been endlessly inspiring. Thank you for reading and please review. Lots of love from Ellie – Xoxoxxo**

**For those of you've also read the sequels to R2, some of Zack's thoughts were incorporated into the final arc of **_**Never Be Another Tonight**_**, where Connor reflects on the privileged people in his life and the epilogue, where Zack chooses Connor over returning to the military. Farshad Nazarov, the young yak herder turned capitalist/womanizer, continues to play a role in Zack's life as Connor's best friend, Cody's employee, and most recently, a potentially unwelcome suitor for daughter Mel. Stay tuned for more :)**


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